Blood Ties (Dinero de Sangre #2) - Lana Sky Page 0,21

person.

Himself.

If my father did kill Pia, then her diary alone wouldn’t hold the answer—he would. Her final resting place would be a clever twist, a way for him to prove that he was always in control. His sick, twisted version of declaring the ultimate checkmate.

I could never think like him. I never understood his plots or his ploys. I only knew enough to play my role.

When it came to Pia, I was to lure her away and steal her diary.

But what if I was just seeing what he wanted me to see? A small piece in a much bigger plan…

Frustrated, I finally open my eyes, forsaking the past for the grim reality of my present circumstances. I can’t tell how long I’ve been sitting here without a view of the sky, though my body is protesting in enough various aches and pains that I suspect at least an hour has passed.

Groaning with the effort, I disentangle myself from between the shelves and set my sights on the numerous items of hanging clothing. Alexi’s familiarity with the wardrobe makes me suspect that, once again, Domino lied to me. He’s had her here before, fucked her here, perhaps on that very bed he’s regulated me to.

The thought sickens me, though I don’t know why. I’m not jealous. I can’t be. Domino Valenciaga, as I knew him is dead, and the monster holding me captive is a creature I want nothing to do with.

Though, for once, I’m willing to take a page out of my father’s book. I can use him.

When I grab a dress, I put no thought into it, just picking the nearest item. I pull it on over my head without bothering to find any underwear to put on beneath.

My head held high, I finally leave the closet, only to realize that Alexi is gone. The room is drenched in darkness, proving my suspicion correct—it’s already past nightfall. If I had to guess where Alexi might be, it’s in Domino’s bed right now, doing the very thing I told her to.

I shrug off the thought and make my way into the hall, moving blindly. I try to push everything else from my brain but the need to survive. Endure.

Domino dangled a sliver of freedom above my head, and I’d be a fool not to take it—though I don’t trust him one damn bit. He’ll screw me over in the end, I know that.

But not if I can screw him first.

As I near the door to his room, some of my resolve wavers. It’s closed, and I can’t help but wonder if the fact is a warning not to enter. Because he’s busy fucking his toy. By breaching this boundary on my own, I’ll only be asking to have that rubbed in my face.

So be it. I don’t care about either of them enough to be offended. I’ll be the daughter my father always wanted and refuse to give a damn about anyone but myself.

And, when it comes to survival, I’ll do whatever it takes.

No matter how many times I feed myself that mantra, my fingers still shake as I grip the doorknob and twist, pushing the door open to a darkened room. My nostrils flare with Domino’s scent, but to my surprise, I don’t smell sweat or the fresh traces of sex.

Neither do I smell Alexi.

Straining my eyes, I blink through the shadows, and realize that the bed is empty. I feel along the wall for a light switch, revealing that, at a glance, the room itself seems deserted.

But no. His scent grows stronger the further I travel. Eventually, I venture far enough to see that the door to the balcony is open, letting in a wave of warm night air.

I don’t check to see if he’s there. Instead, I enter the closet, searching with a single-minded focus until I find what I’m after—Pia’s diary.

I flip it open to a specific page and read while leaning against the cabinet full of watches, hearing them tick ominously in the background. The noise can’t disguise the sound of his approach, however.

He’s slow, lingering in the doorway with only the rasp of his breathing to give him away.

“Did I give you permission to go through that?”

I flinch but don’t look up. In reality, I haven’t been able to read a damn thing. At the sight of Pia’s neat, deliberate handwriting, my vision blurred with the unmistakable burn of fresh tears.

I’ve missed her; how pathetic is that? All this time, I’ve held out hope